Time passed slowly. After an hour the inspector had caught up with his reports and read the newspaper. He settled back in the chair and closed his eyes. One thing he’d learned on the job was to take rest where he could. The next break might be a long time coming.
He was woken by the night sergeant shaking his shoulder.
‘There’s a lad out here, sir. Says Constable Ash sent him. The man you’re after is at the Palace.’
‘Thank you.’ He fumbled in his pocket for a farthing. ‘Give him that.’
The walk across the open market woke him. The square was empty, only the sound of his footsteps ringing, the air cold enough to sting his cheeks.
The lights of the Palace shone bright, the babble of voices loud even on the other side of Kirkgate. Someone was thumping a piano, and a few people sang along drunkenly. Harper slipped through the door and looked around the crowd for Ash.
He had a table close to the front window, a half-empty glass of beer on the table in front on him.
‘I think that’s your man, sir,’ he said as the inspector sat. He followed the gaze. Sitting by himself, head bowed, hands cradling a glass of brandy. The worn bowler hat was still on his head, and thick blond sideboards covered his cheeks.
‘Looks like him.’
‘I’ll go and brace him. You stand by the door in case he tries to run.’
‘Right you are, sir.’ Ash stood, swallowed the rest of his drink and went to wait just outside the pub.
‘John,’ Harper called out as he approached the man, seeing his head jerk up. ‘You’re John?’
His eyes didn’t focus too well; he peered to try to make out who was talking to him. But he was able to nod.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Harper. I’d like a word with you at Millgarth if you don’t mind.’
He was prepared for the man to bolt, but didn’t expect he’d be so fast. In one movement the man was up, knocking over the table and pushing him out of the way. He squeezed through the crowd and out through the door.
By the time Harper arrived, Ash already had the man on the ground, arms pinned behind his back as he fastened the handcuffs.
‘He won’t be going anywhere, sir,’ the constable said with satisfaction.
‘Take him to the station. I’ll be there in a minute.’
He walked back into the stunned silence of the Palace. Faces stared at him then looked away quickly. They parted as he walked, giving him a clear path to the bar. Ben Palmer stood there, hands on hips, a cloth in his hand.
‘I thought you were going to tell me when he came in.’
‘If I’d seen him, I would have.’ His face was grim. ‘We’re that busy, I never even noticed. You know there’s never any trouble here.’
‘Just see you keep it that way.’
TWENTY-FOUR
The room was cold but the man was sweating. The drops stood out on his forehead as he sat shaking.
‘What’s your name?’ Harper asked again. So far all he’d got was a few coughs and grunts. ‘What have you done that’s so bad, John?’
Ash stood by the door, out of the way but watching intently. They’d been in here for a quarter of an hour with no answers. John’s bowler hat sat on the table. Impatiently, the inspector picked it up and threw it across the room.
‘You’d better understand this. You’re going to tell me what I want to know, and I’m running out of patience. Now: what have you done that’s so bad?’
He waited and saw the man’s mouth open.
‘I killed someone.’ He spoke so softly that Harper wasn’t sure he’d heard him properly.
‘You killed someone?’
John nodded.
‘Who?’ the inspector pressed.
‘A woman.’ He bent forward. Harper grabbed his collar and pulled him back.
‘Who? Where?’
John slowly turned his head to face him.
‘In the Arches.’ His voice seemed empty, flat.
Catherine Carr. It had to be. He drew in a breath. This was what he needed, what he’d been waiting for. He could feel a current running through his body.
‘When was this, John?’ he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm. He wanted to grab the man, to shake the confession out of him. Patience, he thought. Softly, softly. He had to calm the tingling he felt inside. Let him take his time.
‘The night of the fire.’ The words seemed to stumble out of John’s mouth. Harper looked over at Ash, but the constable’s face remained impassive.
‘Who did you kill?’ He kept his eyes on the man, watching him. But it was as if John wasn’t quite here, as if some part of him was lost, off somewhere. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must know,’ Harper said in a lulling voice. ‘You killed her.’
‘Yes,’ John answered dully.
‘Who was she? Why did you kill her?’
‘He paid me.’
The inspector stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking furiously.
‘Someone paid you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did he want the woman killed?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘I didn’t ask.’
John was still sweating, his hands shaking a little.
‘Who was she?’ Harper asked again.
‘I don’t know. He pointed her out.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘No.’ John seemed to return to the room, looking at the inspector. ‘He paid me ten guineas. Just kill her, he said.’
‘How did you do it?’
‘Knife.’ He paused. ‘I left it by her.’
They’d never found the weapon, but with all the debris and damage … He needed to be careful with his questions, to draw out all the information.
‘You killed her in the Arches, you said?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you persuade her to go there?’ He couldn’t imagine Katie Carr going to the Arches willingly.
‘Knife.’ John’s mouth curled into a cruel smile.
‘She didn’t scream?’
‘I told her what would happen if she tried.’ The life died from his eyes again. He might have earned his ten guineas but he’d taken on a ghost that would haunt him until he died.
Harper wanted all the details, needed them, but they’d come in time. There was one urgent question.
‘Who was it? Who paid you to kill her?’ Time seemed to stop while he waited for an answer.
‘Tooms.’
Harper let out his breath slowly. Well, well … all debts were cancelled now.
‘How do you know him?’
‘My brother.’
The rest could wait. He’d talk to John again soon. He had enough to arrest Barnabas Tooms.
‘Have someone take him down to the cells,’ the inspector ordered Ash. ‘We’ll get everything else tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You and I have a visit to make.’
The people had faded away from Boar Lane with evening, just a few moving along in the chill. Omnibuses and trams clanked past. The displays in the shop windows were lit, the Grand Pygmalion, the butcher across the road. Gas mantles glowed bright above the pavement.
Harper strode quickly, Ash easily keeping pace beside him. They hadn’t exchanged a word since they left Millgarth. He was thinking of the best way to approach Tooms. Deception wasn’t going to work; the man was a master of that. But head on, brute force. That might scare him.
The bar at the Griffin Hotel was busy, men in frock coats, others in newer, shorter styles. The smell of damp wool and cigars. The look of money and self-satisfaction. But no sign of Tooms.
He kept a room here, Harper remembered. At the desk the clerk told him the number, protesting when he turned towards the stairs.
‘You need to be announced, sir.’
The inspector turned, his face hard. ‘I’m with the police. I’ll announce myself.’
The corridor on the third floor was dark wood and thick carpet. H
is boots didn’t make a sound as he walked towards room 306.
As he hammered on the door he could hear quick movement and voices inside. Tooms had a woman with him. Good, he thought, that would make things easier. He waited a few seconds and brought his fist down on the wood once more.
A key turned in the lock and the door opened an inch, enough to see Tooms’s eye.
‘You’ll have to wait, Inspector. I’m busy.’
Harper pushed hard. The door opened wide and Tooms stumbled back into the room, barely staying on his feet. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, showing thin legs, a round belly and a hairy chest. In the bed a girl pulled the covers up to her chin.
‘I’m not waiting, Barnabas.’ The inspector turned to the girl. ‘Get dressed and go.’
‘You can’t do this,’ Tooms warned.
‘I can.’ With the flat of his hand he pushed Tooms. Once, twice, until he was sprawled on a chair.
‘I’ll talk to the chief constable. You know he’s a friend of mine.’
‘He used to be. You don’t have any friends now.’
For the first time he saw some fear in the man’s eyes.
In the bed the girl was scrambling, trying to put on her clothes without being seen. Finally she scuttled out, smoothing down her dress and carrying a pair of brown button boots into the corridor. Ash shut the door behind her.
‘What’s this about?’ Tooms demanded. He’d had time to gather his thoughts, smiling, thinking he was in control.
‘Constable,’ Harper said without turning his head, ‘put the handcuffs on Mr Tooms.’
‘What?’ the man asked as Ash stepped forward.
‘You arranged the murder of Catherine Carr.’
‘I never!’ Tooms stood, his face red with anger.
‘Sit down,’ the inspector told him, waiting until he was back in the chair. ‘I have the man you paid. The one who murdered her.’
‘I never,’ Tooms repeated. But the bluster had gone from his voice.
‘You’re going to jail, Barnabas.’ The pleasure with which he said it surprised him. ‘And so is Neville Carr.’
‘Neville?’ Tooms asked. ‘What does he have to do with it?’
‘You were doing what he wanted.’
The man threw back his head and began to laugh.
‘Inspector,’ he said when he finally caught his breath. ‘It wasn’t Neville who wanted her dead. It was Gordon Carr.’
TWENTY-FIVE
‘Gordon Carr,’ Harper said to the constable on duty at the gate of Neville Carr’s house. ‘Is he at home?’
‘Went out in the carriage about two hours ago, sir. The driver’s been back a while.’
‘Find out where he dropped him and if he has to pick him up again.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The inspector hammered at the front door until a breathless servant answered it. He waited in the hall for Neville Carr. When the man emerged, his face was bright red with rage.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here? This is my home.’
‘I’m looking for your son, sir.’
‘He’s not here. What do you want with him, anyway?’
‘Do you know where he’s gone and when he’ll be back?’
‘He’s of age,’ Carr replied coldly. ‘He lives his own life. Why do you want him, anyway?’
Harper squared his shoulders and looked at the man.
‘I’m going to arrest him for the murder of Catherine Carr.’
‘What?’ Carr shouted. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid.’
‘I have the evidence.’
‘You’ve had a grudge against this family since you began.’
‘You can think what you like,’ Harper told him. ‘But I’m going to arrest your son.’
‘You can’t even catch that bloody Sugden.’
‘I’ll ask you again, Mr Carr. Do you know where I can find your son?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘And if I did I wouldn’t tell you.’
‘Very well.’ He turned on his heel and walked out. The constable was back at his post. ‘What did you find out?’
‘Dropped him on Albion Street, sir. No orders to pick him up. He often takes a hackney to get home.’
‘Keep a good watch. If he comes back I want you to arrest him.’
‘Sir?’ the constable asked in astonishment.
‘For murder.’
‘Yes, sir.’
At Millgarth he gave Gordon Carr’s description to the night sergeant. Soon enough everyone on the beat would be looking for him. But Harper was going to search, moving from public house to clubs all over the middle of town.
No sign of the man. A few places where he’d been earlier in the evening, but he’d moved on. By eleven he still hadn’t found Carr and he’d tried everywhere. He was so close to victory that he could taste it. All he needed was the man.
He went around everywhere once again, passing the word to everyone he knew. Finally, long after the church clock had struck midnight, he gave up and returned to the police station. No going home tonight, he’d wait and hope that someone would spot Carr. There were places that remained open very late, the clubs and dens that catered to the rich who wanted their pleasures to last into the small hours.
He tried to settle at his desk, closing his eyes and hoping for sleep. But it wouldn’t come. After two minutes he was up and walking around the office, wide awake, mind sparking. Two, three o’clock came and went. At six he heard the shift change, the parade of boots and the barked orders from Sergeant Tollman.
Half an hour later Ash and Reed arrived, Superintendent Kendall close behind them. Harper told them what had happened the evening before, seeing smiles cross their faces.
‘Good job, Tom,’ Kendall told him.
‘Gordon Carr’s not behind bars yet,’ the inspector cautioned.
‘You’ll catch him today.’
‘I’ve put men on the railway stations, just in case.’
The superintendent nodded his approval and turned to Reed. ‘Sugden?’
‘Nothing,’ the sergeant answered quickly. ‘Not a sign of him since he killed that woman in Headingley.’
‘Do you think he’s still in Leeds?’
‘Oh yes,’ Reed replied. ‘He’s not done here yet, I’m certain of that.’
‘Then keep pressing. Let’s see if we can finish everything today.’ Kendall stood. ‘I know it’s been hard, but we’ll get them both. Sergeant Reed, a word in my office, please.’
‘You’ve done some excellent work on this,’ the superintendent said once Reed was seated.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I’ll be telling Inspector Hill that.’ He paused. ‘Do you still want to go back to the fire brigade when everything is done here?’
There was a long silence before the sergeant replied, ‘I do, sir.’
‘I’d like to persuade you to stay if I could. I know there’s been bad blood between you and Inspector Harper.’
‘I think that’s all in the past, sir.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Kendall brought his pipe from a jacket pocket and filled it, then struck a match. ‘I’ve been thinking that you’d make a good inspector with CID.’
‘Sir?’ The idea ambushed him. He’d never imagined something like this.
‘Johnson over at B Division is going to retire. They’re going to need someone with experience in charge.’
‘I … I don’t know, sir. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Nothing’s signed and sealed yet,’ Kendall told him. ‘Take a little time to think about it. Talk it over with your …’ He let the sentence go, not sure what to call Elizabeth.
‘I will, sir. And thank you.’
‘I’ve seen the change in you while you’ve been back here, Sergeant. You’ve impressed me. It seems as if you’ve ironed out whatever problems you had before. I think you’d be an asset to us.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’
He wandered out in a daze. Elated. Co
nfused. First the chance to be a fire investigator and now this. A promotion, more responsibility. More money, and God knew they could use that.
‘You look happy, Billy,’ Harper said.
‘A funny life sometimes,’ was all he replied.
‘It is,’ the inspector agreed. ‘Now let’s go and find our men, shall we?’
TWENTY-SIX
The information came from a tip.
Gordon Carr hadn’t gone home the night before; Harper had received a message from the local station. He was still somewhere in Leeds. He didn’t know the police were seeking him. It was just a matter of time.
But the inspector didn’t want to wait. He wanted Carr in custody, to have it all wrapped up. By late morning, though, he still had nothing. No sign of the man.
He stopped at a tea stall to put something warm in his belly. The skies were grey and threatening, but at least the fog hadn’t returned, though everywhere people were coughing. Winter was settling in, cold and killing.
Harper stood, drinking his tea, when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned and saw Davy Piper. He was a short man, not much more than a midget, but always smartly dressed in a spotless suit and overcoat, his bowler hat neatly brushed. Anyone seeing him would have thought him prosperous, a senior clerk, perhaps, or a businessman.
But he’d never held a job. His money came here and there, selling information, doing small jobs.
‘Are you still looking for Gordon Carr?’ He didn’t look at the inspector, but stared down Briggate, watching a train cross the bridge above the street in a cloud of steam.
‘I am,’ Harper replied.
‘How much?’
‘Ten bob.’ A lot of money, but the force could find that much. And worth every penny.
‘Holbeck,’ Piper said, so softly that the inspector had to turn his head to catch the word.
‘Where?’
‘Siddall Place. There’s a pub. He’s upstairs. Paid for the night with someone.’
‘I’ll see you get the money,’ Harper told him and the man nodded his agreement.
The inspector finished his tea in a single gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Reed and Ash were both at Millgarth, back from another search of the courts and yards behind Briggate.
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